


Why Not?

by usakiwigirl



Series: Moving Forward [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usakiwigirl/pseuds/usakiwigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco have been... well... fucking. For a year - and nobody knows. Isn't it time they took their 'whatever' public?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Not?

**Author's Note:**

> I had to see if Harry and Draco could work out their issues, the same way they helped Dennis sort out his. It isn't completely necessary to read the other story in this series, but it may help explain a few seemingly random statements.
> 
> Also, I'd really appreciate it if you did read it, because I'm damn proud of that one!

Harry watched Dennis walk away, a pensive expression on his face. He felt happy that he and Draco had managed to help the young man settle his thoughts, but found himself envious of the freedom he now had. Dennis would go back to Theo, and they would both be very happy together, of this he had no doubt. His jealousy arose from the fact that he, himself, was still living a lie. Oh, not that he was in a relationship with a man. All of his friends and family were well aware he swung both ways. It was more the fact that he was in a relationship with this particular man. With Draco Malfoy.

Draco was adamant that nobody become aware of their status. He claimed that it was to protect Harry from naysayers, but Harry suspected it was more to do with his parents - well, father - and acceptance of his lifestyle and choice of partner.

But were they really partners? Sure, they’d been fucking for a year now. However, they lived in separate houses, and only saw each other once a week, if they were lucky. It hardly qualified as a relationship. More like friends with occasional benefits. Harry didn’t want that. He wanted what he’d had in the past. He wanted what Dennis and Theo had now. He wanted a proper chance at a proper relationship. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, parade it down the street. He wanted the world to know that he was Draco Malfoy’s, and Draco was his.

Dennis passed through the wards, his shape blurring. Harry watched him start his turn, then started as a warm hand snaked around his waist, pulling him tight against a long, lean body. He turned in Draco’s embrace, welcoming his kiss with all the pent-up passion he harboured.

Harry groaned as Draco pushed him back against the door, closing it with a thump. Draco slid his lips across Harry’s cheek, stopping to nibble on the lobe of his ear. Harry’s knees melted at the onslaught. This was how it was always; Draco had an outstanding ability to render him speechless and boneless with just a touch. It took every ounce of self-control and willpower to put his hand on Draco’s chest, to use the little strength he had left to push him away.

“Gods, Draco, stop. Stop!” Harry was more than a little mortified to hear how breathless he sounded.

Draco pushed forward, knocking Harry’s arm out of the way so he could continue his assault. “Why, Harry?” he said, barely lifting his mouth off Harry’s neck to speak. Harry could feel the warm, moist air tickle his nerves. He tipped just a little further toward orgasm, something that was never far out of reach when Draco was near. “I thought this was the whole point of my being here. To kiss you, to touch you, to suck you dry.” This last he said as he dropped down, his knees making a harsh sound as they connected with the wood floor.

Harry’s breath hitched as Draco buried his face in his groin, mouthing his dick through the heavy material of his jeans. He raised his hands above his head, running them in circles over Harry’s chest, pausing to pinch his nipples through his shirt. Blindly, his face still pressed against Harry’s cock, Draco began pushing buttons through the material, until the shirt hung open and allowed easy access to Harry’s chest and stomach. At the same time, he used his teeth to bite at the exposed button at the waistband of Harry’s jeans. As soon as that was open, he dragged his hands down, letting his fingernails catch on the dusting of hair that ran the length of Harry’s abdomen.

Harry was panting hard by the time Draco reached his jeans. Draco went back to mouthing at his erection, as his busy fingers made short work of the three buttons that held his jeans together. As soon as he could, Draco pulled the flaps of the jeans aside, exposing Harry to the afternoon air. He smirked; Harry was not wearing underwear. Draco was quite proud of the fact that he’d corrupted the Chosen One, by convincing him that underwear at home was an unnecessary waste of material. When Harry baulked at the idea, Draco merely reminded him that being in such a state simply made it easier to reach the target. Draco then set about proving his words true. It took remarkably little time to convince Harry after that.

Draco wasted no time in reaching for Harry’s cock. In truth, it looked the other way round; Harry’s cock wasted no time in making itself known to Draco. Harry was hard, dripping with pre-come. The sight of his erection pushing out of his undone jeans might have seemed obscene to some, but to Draco it was a sight that fuelled his long nights alone. He leaned forward again, holding Harry by the hip with one hand, and wrapping the other around the base of Harry’s cock. He touched the tip with his tongue, moaning in unison with Harry.

Harry surprised himself some days, even after a year of fucking Draco, at just how vocal he could be during sex. While he was married to Ginny, it wasn’t at all unusual for them to be almost silent while making love. The sex between them was never bad; on the contrary, Harry loved every minute of his ten years of marriage. Three children backed up his claim of matrimonial bliss. It was simply that they grew apart, wanting and needing different things as they aged. Their decision to divorce was painful, and not undertaken lightly. It was just the right thing to do in the end. They were happier now, as good, close friends, than they were at the end of their time together.

With Draco, however, Harry quite often shouted during sex. He simply couldn’t help it. His moans grew in volume as Draco sucked the head into his mouth, holding it on his tongue for several long moments, before sliding his lips down the length, swallowing all the while. He set up a punishing rhythm, not letting up even when Harry pulled on his hair. Harry screamed his climax, embarrassingly aware of how quickly Draco had managed his goal. He wasn’t surprised when Draco immediately surged to his feet, spinning him around so fast his vision blurred.

Draco quickly pulled Harry’s jeans down below his arse, muttering a quick spell that Harry felt from his arse to his gut. Draco grabbed his hands, holding them firmly against the door with one of his own, as he pushed his cock deep inside. He let go of Harry’s hands, grabbing him on one shoulder and one hip, using the leverage to start snapping his hips. Harry knew it was going to be quick - Draco rarely played rough, only when his own need was too much to bear.

Harry wasn’t hard, nor was he going to have time to recover fully, but it didn’t matter. Draco brushed past his prostate with nearly every thrust, sending blinding sparks through Harry’s body. He could barely breathe, the sensations overwhelming him. A secondary orgasm, sans ejaculate, ripped through him, his arse clenching in spasmodic waves. His vision blacked out, the last thing he could feel being Draco’s hot come filling him.

When Harry next opened his eyes, he was lying on his sofa, his jeans still open and Draco pressed along the length of his body. He was smirking openly when Harry focused on his face, one hand fisted tight in Harry’s unruly hair.

“Bloody hell, Draco. That was… how did I get from the door to here?”

“Hover charm. You’re too heavy for me to lift, Harry, you know that.”

“Liar. I remember a few times when you’ve picked me up and fucked me senseless against the wall.”

Draco’s smirk grew, if that was possible. “As an active participant, yeah. As deadweight passed out on the floor? No fucking way. You’re not the scrawny git you once were, you know. Auror training and all that, I suppose. And here I thought it was milk that was supposed to do a body good.”

“Hmmm. Well, thank you. Not sure my body would like lying on the floor, not at my age.”

“Yeah, because you’re a decrepit old bastard now. Salazar, Harry, you’re only 38, same as me. Not like you’re ready to push up the daisies any time soon.”

“Hey, this job isn’t exactly kind to bodies. And you try chasing three kids around. Guaranteed to make you feel your years, that is.”

“Oh, give it up, Harry. Your ginger brood are all in school, so you aren’t on your hands and knees playing Dad. The only time you get on your hands and knees now is for me.”

Draco’s words reminded Harry of his thoughts as Dennis left. “Oi, only one of my kids is ginger, thank you.” He pulled himself out from under Draco. “And how do you know I’m not bending over for some other bloke when I’m not with you?”

Draco’s eyes flattened, the grey becoming icy. “I don’t. I suppose it’s a bit naïve of me, but I sort of thought our arrangement was exclusive.”

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Draco. You know me well enough to know I’d never do something like that to you.”

Draco’s expression didn’t change. “So why’d you say it, then? There has to be a reason. You wouldn’t just… Are you telling me you want to go out and screw other men? I‘m not good enough for you?” Now Harry could hear hurt beneath the scornful words.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Draco. I never said that. I don’t want anybody else, I only want you.”

“Then why?”

Harry jumped to his feet, pacing around the chairs and sofas in his living room. “Because I want more than what we have right now, okay? I want to see you more than once a week--”

“Didn’t I say that to Creevey? I want to see you more often, too, but we have obligations that prevent that.”

“As things stand, yeah, we do. But I don’t want things to be like this anymore. I want us to be a proper couple. I want to live with you, share time with our kids together. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up to you every morning. I want holidays together. I want to know that I can talk to you whenever I need--”

“Harry, you can talk to me anytime now, you know that. Just send me an owl, or floo-call. I’m always there for you.”

“No. I mean that I want to be able to talk to you, face to face. Without having to send you a message first, or wait for you to be home. Damn it, Draco, I want to be with you forever. Is that too much to want?”

Now it was Draco’s turn to pace the room, his bare feet making no sound on the floor. He turned anguished eyes towards Harry. “This isn’t fair, Harry. I would love to have all that, too, but we can’t. I thought you understood. It’s not in your best interests to acknowledge that we are more than the adversaries everyone already thinks we are. Why can’t you just accept things the way they are?”

“Because I don’t want to, not any more. Why should other people have domestic bliss with their partners, while I’m lucky if I spend one night a week with mine?”

“Because other people aren’t dating former Death Eaters, you twat! Nor are they the Saviour. Harry, your job, the respect people have for you…” He grabbed Harry by the arms, shaking him gently. “You’d lose everything. I won’t let that happen to you. You‘ve worked too damn hard to have it snatched from you simply because you‘re seeing me.”

Harry stared at him. Draco was serious. Harry honestly thought he’d been lying in the past when he laid out his reasons, but this proved him wrong. Draco really was only concerned for his well-being. If it weren’t so bloody annoying, Harry would kiss him senseless in gratitude.

“Draco,” he said softly, bringing his hands up to cup Draco’s face, “it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I want to make a life with you.”

Draco leaned forward and placed a kiss of such stunning simplicity on Harry’s lips that Harry felt his heart hammer like mad in his chest. “It’s not a risk I’m willing to take on your behalf. I would rather end this now, than cause you any further hurt in the future.”

With those words ringing in his ears, Harry watched helplessly as Draco turned away from him. He stood as if nailed to the floor as Draco summoned his small overnight bag from his bedroom, then slipped his feet into his shoes and draped a cape around his body. He didn’t say a word as Draco stepped to his fireplace, only looking on in anguish as Draco scooped out a handful of floo powder. The room expanded and shrank around Harry as Draco looked back at him, then tossed the powder into the fireplace and disappeared.

~~~~~

The first week without Draco went by in a blur. Harry steadfastly refused to acknowledge to himself that their ‘whatever’ was over, instead focusing on when he would see Draco again. Work was busy, as always, and provided adequate distraction for his mind, so he was able to block any wayward thoughts of Draco’s last words.

He helped Dennis Creevey clear out his flat, taking on the responsibility of looking after it willingly. He hoped that having a secondary meeting place, deep in the heart of London, would make it easier for he and Draco to get together more frequently. He even sent off an owl to Draco to give him the address, although he wasn‘t really expecting Draco to take advantage of it before Harry himself showed him in. He knew that this week, at least, it would just be the two of them at his country home.

But their designated meeting never happened. Harry sat waiting patiently in his house for Draco’s flu call before he would step elegantly through the fire, his eyes glued to the hearth. How long he sat there waiting, he didn’t know. The shadows lengthened around him, and the sun dropped from sight - and still no Draco. He fell asleep in the chair, waking as the sky slowly lightened in the morning, anger gradually replacing his hopes.

How dare Draco leave him in the lurch like this, with no warning or courtesy call or anything. It went far beyond rude and lodged firmly in the realm of insulting. Harry ignored the convenient fact that Draco was never rude or disrespectful about the social niceties. He shoved to the back of his mind the little detail of Draco ending their affair. It was far, far easier to focus on the rage and resentment that coursed through his body. He was furious at the perceived injustice of Draco’s actions.

The second week, Harry focused on his ire. Unfortunately for all who encountered him, he didn’t keep it to himself. He was obnoxious in the extreme, something noticed by all and commented on freely. The first time he read about his abrupt change of behaviour in the Prophet, it took Ginny, Ron and Hermione all holding him back to stop him from marching to the paper’s office immediately with thoughts of vengeance on his mind. He refused point blank to explain his anger to them all, even when faced with such dire threats as Hermione and a psychology book. His staff all avoided him as much as possible, which did nothing for his state of mind.

The third week, his anger faded, leaving him cold and lonely. He sulked at home, and at work, forcing those around him to continue to avoid him. While he no longer snapped at the first word spoken to him, his answers remained monosyllabic in nature, and he volunteered no information other than what was strictly necessary. In a word, he was miserable.

By the end of the month, his sad and lonely existence forced him out of his house and office. His feverish brain decided to go back into the field, where he took unnecessary risks and flaunted himself as a target. His Aurors were not happy. They worried about safety - namely, his. His reputation as an outstanding Auror and commando kept them from complaining out loud, but they worried whenever he was out on patrol with them. If anything should happen to the Saviour on their watch… well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

One such case that Harry decided absolutely must have his involvement concerned the cleaning up of wizarding London’s slew of streetwalkers. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, or even under pain of torture, but Harry was hoping to accomplish two goals. 1) Removing those who solicited for sex from the streets, which could only be a good thing. There were sanctioned establishments for them, safe environments that paid well and protected them from rowdy and dangerous clientele. 2) If he was careful, he might just be able to avail himself of some accommodating young worker. It was hard to admit, even in the deepest recesses of his mind; he missed sex - specifically sex with Draco - but he’d take what he could get. It wasn’t looking like he was ever going to be in a position to be too particular.

Harry set himself as bait for the sweep, casually walking the streets in the hope somebody would proposition him. He viewed both men and women as potential targets, but found himself drawn to one young man in particular, who bore a striking resemblance to his lov… his former lover. He made sure to catch the young man’s eye, then casually sauntered to the back of a narrow alley, hearing the light footsteps behind him.

He was just turning around, when a red bolt of magic streaked past his head, barely missing him. His first thought was that the rent boy had set him up, but a startled cry as another stun hit the youngster put paid to that. Cries came from all around him, as he pulled his wand and started firing return hexes, cursing and shouting at the figures that crowded the alley in all directions. His blood boiled, his heart raced and he thrilled to be back in the thick of it.

He was exalting loudly as a full body-bind hit him in the back, sending him crashing headfirst into a wall. The world was black before his body hit the ground.

~~~~~

His head hurt. Gods, he didn’t think he’d ever had a headache quite this nasty and insidious. It wormed its way through his brain, making him groan and twitch - which in turn made him realise that it wasn’t just his head that ached. His back, his ribs, and his left arm - they all throbbed with an intensity that reminded him unpleasantly of his teenage years at Hogwarts. The smell of antiseptics and ointments - distinctly medicinal smells - slowly came to him. So, not at home, or on the ground in some filthy alley then.

Harry cracked one eye open, wincing at the bright light. A cursory glance out of that one eye confirmed his suspicions - bright white walls, an uncomfortable bed and the low murmur of voices meant he was in one of the treatment rooms at St. Mungo’s. Damn, but he hated being in hospital. He wondered just how severe his injuries were. A deep breath in hurt, yes, but more in the realm of severe bruising. Harry was rather glad about that - broken ribs would severely curtail his ability to go out and fuck. His back felt… well, he wasn’t really sure how to characterise the pain in his back. He’d have to wait until the healers told him. As for his arm, he was quite sure it was shattered. Possibly in more than one place. Opening both eyes, he turned his head carefully and looked to the side of the bed. A large bottle of Skelegrow stood on the little table near the head of the bed. Yeah, something was broken, probably that arm.

A sudden commotion outside his room made him want to cover his ears. The noise rang in his head like a roomful of church bells, echoing loudly. Out of the babble of voices, he could hear one raised in righteous anger, one he never thought to hear again.

“If you do not move out of my way this instant, I will hurt you. You know who I am, and what my background is… I will not hesitate to revert. Now move!”

Harry thrilled to hear Draco so forceful, although he worried a little about the threat to return to his old ways. While he knew that it was just that - an idle threat, one that Draco would never actually go through with - nobody else did. The rest of wizarding Britain was still waiting with baited breath for Draco Malfoy to show his true colours, as they saw them. This sort of talk would only confirm that he was bad, through and through.

The door to his room banged open, a small man wearing healer white staggering in backwards as his support disappeared. Draco followed, his wand levelled, although not at the healer, but toward the door. The healer looked afraid, but stood his ground.

“Mr Malfoy, I assure you, we have the situation well in hand. Your presence here is not required. Now, would you please leave!”

Draco, whose eyes had fixed on Harry as soon as he entered the room, turned his icy gaze upon the small man. “I will leave only when my boyfriend - that man in the bed over there - tells me to go. Is that understood?” With those words, he dismissed the healer imperiously and moved directly over to Harry’s bed.

“Harry, you bloody fool! When I heard… Gods, I feared the worst.” He lowered his wand and sat heavily on the edge of Harry’s bed. He reached out a hand, running it gently down Harry’s face, cupping his cheek and leaning in for a soft kiss. A gasp from the healer behind made him turn his head toward the door, the concerned look on his face sliding instantly into the cold mask he’d worn as he entered. “Haven’t you left yet?”

The healer scuttled out of the room, his lips flapping as he ran. “Goodness, I’ve never… Mr Malfoy kissing Harry Potter!”

Harry grasped Draco with his good hand, fingers digging deep into his arm. “Draco, what are you doing here? You realise that everyone will know about us - what we were, rather - in no time. St. Mungo’s is a bigger gossip mill than the Ministry and the Prophet put together.”

“I don’t care! It doesn’t matter if everybody knows - hell, I’ll go and shout it out from the rooftop myself! Harry, the only thing I care about is you. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I don’t think I was, not really. I just felt the urge to do something--”

“Something immensely stupid. There is a waiting room full of Aurors, who are desperate to know that they haven’t killed their leader. Harry, why were you in the field with them?”

Harry winced as he tried to sit up, smiling gratefully at Draco as he gave him a hand. “It was a big operation, cleaning the streets. They needed the help,” he shrugged, not looking Draco in the eye.

“Really. An entire department of Aurors couldn’t manage one task without their grand marshal to lead the way? Is that the sort of outfit you’ve developed to protect us all. Pathetic, really. I would have thought you, of all people, could do a better job of it.” Draco’s tone was scornful, and raised Harry’s ire immediately.

“Fuck off, Malfoy. I run a damn fine group of Aurors, and you know it. Don’t impugn me, or my crew.”

“Yes, you do. So why, for the third time, were you out in the field with them, when they are all perfectly capable of doing the job on their own?”

Harry flushed. “I was looking for a shag, okay? A hand job, or a blowjob - anything! I miss you, miss the sex - but mostly I just miss you. You left me, Draco. You walked out on what had the potential to be a really good thing, more than fucking once a week. I was miserable. There, are you happy now?”

“No, I’m not. That was a stupid reason to put yourself in danger! If you wanted… No. Harry, I made a mistake, a bloody big one. I should never have walked out. I still think my reasons for leaving were valid, but I handled it wrong.”

“Yes, you did. I’m a big boy, Draco--”

“Yes, you most certainly are,” Draco leered.

“Shut up, I’m trying to make a point. I don’t need somebody making decisions for me. I’m capable of making them myself, all appearances to the contrary. I know you were worried about me, about my job and my reputation, but all of that means nothing to me, without you. I want you in my life, Draco, as more than somebody I meet once a week to fuck. I love you, more than I ever thought it was possible to love anybody.”

“Ah, Harry, I love you. That’s why I was so opposed to the idea of us being an open couple. I love you too much to see you hurt by public opinion.”

“Well, the public knows now, or will in about an hour. I predict the Prophet will run a special edition just for this story alone.”

“You’re most likely right. Do you want me to use my malevolent Malfoy influence and stop them?”

“Not bloody likely! And stop maligning yourself. You’re a good man, Draco Malfoy. I wouldn’t be with you otherwise.”

“I’m a good man because of you, Harry.” Draco leaned forward and captured Harry’s lips again, pushing hard to gain entrance with his tongue. Harry groaned into the kiss, aching to lift both hands to hold Draco firmly around the head. He pulled back reluctantly, gently stroking Draco’s hair with his good hand.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

“A fabulous idea, Potter. Although there is the little detail of your shattered arm, bruised ribs and severely scraped and torn back. Not to mention the concussion you suffered when you bent your skull on the wall.”

“How do you know all that?”

“The Malfoy name can still open doors and extract information. We are still respected in some areas.”

“You’re respected by me. That should be enough for the rest of the fucking world,” Harry grumbled. “Now, I presume that Skelegrow is for my arm, so hand me a glass, yeah? It tastes like total shit, but the sooner I knock it back, the better. Then we can go home and shag like bunnies.”

Draco laughed as he got up from the bed and moved around to the little table, pouring a glass and handing it to Harry. “What about your head?”

“Nothing for it. I’m a lost cause, remember?” Harry shrugged, accepting his own limitations. Draco glared at him. “Oh, you mean the concussion! I’ve been concussed enough to know I’ll just have to take it easy for a day or so, nothing too strenuous - so no pounding you while holding you up. You’ll have to wake me every couple of hours--”

“I can do that,” Draco murmured, his eyes dark.

Harry flushed, but continued speaking. “I know the signs to look out for, Draco. I’ll let you know what you need to worry about. Just get me out of here?”

Draco nodded, then dropped a light kiss on Harry’s forehead. He moved to the door, looking back at Harry as he grabbed the handle. “I meant what I said, Harry. I love you. I want to be with you, out in public, where everybody knows. I know it won’t be easy, but--”

“I know, Draco. We’ll be together, that’s all that matters.”

Draco nodded again, then left the room. Harry could hear his muffled voice in the hall, and laid his head back down on his pillow with a happy sigh. Everything was working out, even better than he hoped. Okay, so being injured wasn’t the smartest way to win back Draco. But whatever the method, it worked. They were a couple, a real couple, who could move about together without worrying about who saw them. Hell, they could even move in together, eventually, if that‘s what they wanted.

Harry grinned. He still had the flat from Dennis. Now that they were an official item, able to shag any time they wanted, the flat wasn’t strictly necessary, not for the purpose he’d taken it for, anyway. But it could still come in quite handy. Clandestine meetings in the middle of the day, an arranged assignation just to spice things up. Oh yeah, the possibilities were endless. If the shit hit the fan, and reporters and photographers stalked Harry’s house - and Draco’s Manor - then the flat would be a boon. After all, nobody but Dennis knew that Harry was now in possession. A secret rendezvous point. How exciting!

Harry wanted Draco. His cock was rock hard under the sheets, and he could feel the pre-come dripping onto his stomach. He grimaced as the Skelegrow started working on his arm. Judging from the pain, it would take most of the day to heal properly. However, he didn’t need that arm to make love to Draco. Going by the look in his man’s eyes, Draco would be quite willing to do all the work for him, letting him lie back and enjoy - and heal. Oh, the night would be fabulous, as would the rest of his life.

Yes. The rest of his life. Harry knew that Draco was it, was ‘the one’. A bit sappy, maybe, but true all the same. He wouldn’t make the mistake of letting him go again. Even with their families, they would make it work. Albus and Scorpius were reputed to be fast friends, always in trouble. Lily, while as devious as her brothers, had a heart of gold and wouldn’t mind an extra boy in the house. James - well, James was fifteen, and too busy trying to make his way through all the young women at Hogwarts. It would be doubtful if he even noticed another person in the house, let alone two. Yes, this would all work perfectly.

~~~~~

Draco opened the door to Harry’s room, having secured his release. He stopped and stared in wonder at the man in the bed. Harry was asleep, his features softened in slumber. He was gorgeous. Draco’s heart clenched, then started beating in double time.

He counted himself the luckiest man ever. Yes, he’d set out to get Harry Potter, it was true - but only as far as his bed. Falling in love with him was never part of his plan. However, Potter wormed his way deep into his heart, filling it with warmth and hope, where Draco thought none existed. Not like he felt for Harry, at least. He loved his son with his entire being, showing more affection to the young man than his father ever showed him, but parental love was a lot different from the feelings he felt for Harry.

When word reached him of Harry’s injuries, his heart quite literally stopped. He thought his world was over. It brought him to his senses as no other argument could. His words to Harry he’d meant with his entire being. He planned on showing him for the rest of his life, just how true they were.

By some miracle, two old school rivals found each other, falling deeply in love. Perhaps this was the house unity the Sorting Hat and Dumbledore were hoping for? Draco snorted quietly. No, probably not. But it still worked.

End


End file.
